


The Third House

by ashtopop



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Routines, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtopop/pseuds/ashtopop
Summary: The Third House of Whitestone is a title of no property, no income, and no name save de Rolo. It was a courtesy, and it was his to give—so he did.





	

Percy wakes slowly in the mornings, troubled sleep and ideas that need to be captured hallmarks of long nights tangled in sheets. When not forced awake by nightmares, he drags himself to consciousness, his fingertips grasping the revolver under his pillow even before his eyes slide open, the room painted bright and white by early morning. When they share a bed, Vex doesn’t stay. She needs less sleep than him, and her time in the forest has set her internal clock by sunrise.

On most mornings she creeps out of bed, sheets wrapped around her, and presses a kiss to his cheek, stubble rough on her lips. She slips on one of his shirts, untied neck resting loose around her collarbones, tames her thick, dark hair into something resembling her usual braid, and leaves him to sleep.

By the time he wakes, she’s already dressed and made coffee for the rest of Vox Machina, winking over her mug at his sleep- and sex-tousled hair. Sometimes he finds her practicing archery or working on their ledgers, pressing a sly kiss to her cheek as he slides past her work and into his own workshop. Sometimes Trinket’s armor is missing and he can’t find her at all, but she’s always home by sunset with fresh kills, bright eyes, and foliage he subtly picks out of her hair.

This morning, however, he wakes to hair like ink spilling over his shoulder and pillowcase alike, and Vex’s lithe form breathing slow and steady where she is curled on his chest. Her long lashes flicker in the mist of a dream, and while Percy’s itch to find a trigger—to prove he’s safe, to prove he’s awake, to prove he’s _alive_ —he resists the impulse, tightening his arm around her. Her full lips are parted slightly, warm breath brushing his skin with each exhale. The skin of her shoulder seems cold, however, so he pulls the down blanket up around her, cursing his own stubborn insistence he doesn’t need servants to do light chores—like lighting the fireplace—for him.

He’s been reading histories of Whitestone Cassandra managed to salvage by lamplight before bed and he pulls the book to him, resting its spine in the palm of his hand, leaving his glasses where they lay. It isn’t the most comfortable position, but he can see the slope of Vex’s nose, the tilt of her lips, and, out the window, spires of chimney smoke from the town below bellowing into the chilly morning air.

Vex comes to consciousness like she was pulled in by a slow tide, waves lapping and overlapping dreams with her head on Percy’s chest in the pale morning sun. Her eyelashes brush his skin and he looks down at her, one eyebrow quirked as she pushes herself up and slides up him, pressing her lips to his cheek and looking, bleary-eyed, at the book he’s shifted to both hands.

“Is this your family tree?” she asks, voice low and hoarse with sleep, tracing a pale finger down the parchment page, the pad tracing the names in multiple inks and hands by hurried midwives and anxious husbands alike.

“Some of it,” he says, a chuckle in his voice. “There’s a tapestry somewhere that Cassandra also managed to save.”

“Hmm,” she mumbles, cuddling into his collarbone and pulling the blanket closer. “Show me the third house’s tree?” She doesn’t really care, not this early, not with his warmth pressed against her and the light shining through dust particles over their bed, but Percy cares deeply and unreservedly about his home, so she will muster interest in the earliest hours for him.

His dark brows furrow at the page, running a finger under the title at the top. Looking now she sees it reads “The Third House of Whitestone,” and her own brows knit in confusion, skimming each of the long names listed below in turn.

“They’re all de Rolos, though?” she looks up from the tanned parchment, her eyes seeking his even as he looks back down at the page, a blush creeping up the back of his neck.

“Yes… well, you remember what I said about not having any land? It’s a courtesy title, really, with a house in town and a crypt.”

“And I love it, Percy. It’s more than I ever expected,” she says, twisting her head to press a kiss to his freckled shoulder. The flush has spread to the tip of his ears, and he reaches for his glasses to stall for time, placing them on his nose.

“It really is. More, I mean. Courtesy titles are generally granted to the non-heir children of the Lord and Lady of Whitestone. First House for Julius, my eldest brother. Second house for Vesper. And the third house for the third child… me.” She pulls away abruptly, putting her hands on each side of his unshaven jaw and forcing him to look at her.

“ _Percival_ ,” she whispers. Her hair tumbles down the side of her body, lose from its braid against ivory skin and pooling at their waists. The sun behind her backlights the small strands of that have escaped the cascade, a halo forged from imperfection. He is glad he gets to see this before the depth of his feelings scare her away. He’s glad he got this morning, at least.  _“Percival,”_ she whispers again, dragging him in close by the collar of his shirt. She presses her forehead to his and breathes in his air, their chests brushing in the quietude of their exchanged breaths. He loosely places his arms around her back—light enough for a quick escape, should she want to—to make the position easier.

“You gave me your _home,_ ” she says. Her voice is watery and she reaches up to roughly wipe away the tears that have gathered in her eyelashes. “There’s nothing more important you could have given me. I’m going to try _so hard_ ,” her voice broke on the words. “to be worth it.” Her fists are tight on the fabric of his shirt, and he draws his arms up her back to embrace her. He leans back against the pillows, kissing her hair and pulling her with him.

“Vex, you don’t have to _try_. You’re worth every cent, second, and title you’ve ever felt like you’ve stolen,” he says. Her laugh is muddled in tears, but she scrubs them away with her palms before sitting up to look at him. There’s a careful space between them.

“I’m sorry you ever had it to give away, Percy,” she says, her fingers twisting with his in the blanket.

“I am, too, but since I could... I’m glad it was to you,” he replies, pauses sinking the words like stone in deep water. He grips her fingers tightly in his for a moment, coming back to himself before settling back into their loose embrace. They lay like that a while, settling against each other in the bare and stillness.

He struggles for a lighter topic, but Vex breaks into subdued laughter first, apologizing with a hand wave. “Does that mean Scanlan burnt down your house and then threw your gun in acid _on the same day_?” Percy sighs, putting his hand over his eyes even as his lips lift in a weary smile.

“Yes, don’t remind me,” he says. She laughs again, kissing her way up the chest exposed by his open shirt until she reaches his neck, settling into his collarbone. Her fingers find his hair and she rakes through it, the white near glowing in the shine of sun off snow through the window.

“You’re wonderful, darling. You know that?” she says. He doesn’t answer, but she gently lifts the glasses from his nose and sets them on the bedside table, her eyes still locked with his. His calloused hands trail from her back to her hips, rubbing small circles as he works his way up her warming skin.

Neither has anything to prove to the other, and they prove it in the mornings—cold and still, bare and bright.

**Author's Note:**

> LATER  
> Vex: “So that’s why everyone thinks we’re married?”  
> Percy: *Spittakes*
> 
> Thanks, Discord. Come find me at [considermehacked on tumblr](http://considermehacked.tumblr.com/)


End file.
